8

The Musicker

About the middle of the forenoon they began to go up a long hill. By-and-by this hill suddenly dropped down into a pretty valley, where the travelers saw, to their surprise, a small house standing by the road-side.

It was the first house they had seen, and they hastened into the valley to discover who lived there. No one was in sight as they approached, but when they began to get nearer the house they heard queer sounds coming from it. They could not make these out at first, but as they became louder our friends thought they heard a sort of music like that made by a wheezy hand-organ; the music fell upon their ears in this way:

 

Tiddle-widdle-iddle oom pom-pom!

Oom, pom-pom! oom, pom-pom!

Tiddle-tiddle-tiddle oom pom-pom!

Oom, pom-pom – pah!

 

“What is it, a hand or a mouth-organ?” asked Dorothy.

“Don’t know,” said Button-Bright.

“Sounds to me like a played-out phonograph,” said the shaggy man, lifting his enormous ears to listen.

“Oh, there just COULDN’t be a funnygraf in Fairyland!” cried Dorothy.

“It’s rather pretty, isn’t it?” asked Polychrome, trying to dance to the strains.

 

Tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom,

Oom pom-pom; oom pom-pom!

 

came the music to their ears, more distinctly as they drew nearer the house. Presently, they saw a little fat man sitting on a bench before the door. He wore a red, braided jacket that reached to his waist, a blue waistcoat, and white trousers with gold stripes down the sides. On his bald head was perched a little, round, red cap held in place by a rubber elastic underneath his chin. His face was round, his eyes a faded blue, and he wore white cotton gloves. The man leaned on a stout gold-headed cane, bending forward on his seat to watch his visitors approach.

Singularly enough, the musical sounds they had heard seemed to come from the inside of the fat man himself; for he was playing no instrument nor was any to be seen near him.

They came up and stood in a row, staring at him, and he stared back while the queer sounds came from him as before:

 

Tiddle-iddle-iddle, oom pom-pom,

Oom, pom-pom; oom pom-pom!

Tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom,

Oom, pom-pom – pah!

 

“Why, he’s a reg’lar musicker!” said Button-Bright. “What’s a musicker?” asked Dorothy.

“Him!” said the boy.

Hearing this, the fat man sat up a little stiffer than before, as if he had received a compliment, and still came the sounds:

 

Tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom,

Oom pom-pom, oom —

 

“Stop it!” cried the shaggy man, earnestly. “Stop that dreadful noise.”

The fat man looked at him sadly and began his reply. When he spoke the music changed and the words seemed to accompany the notes. He said – or rather sang:

 

It isn’t a noise that you hear,

But Music, harmonic and clear.

My breath makes me play

Like an organ, all day —

That bass note is in my left ear.

 

“How funny!” exclaimed Dorothy; “he says his breath makes the music.”

“That’s all nonsense,” declared the shaggy man; but now the music began again, and they all listened carefully.

 

My lungs are full of reeds like those

In organs, therefore I suppose,

If I breathe in or out my nose,

The reeds are bound to play.

 

 

So as I breathe to live, you know,

I squeeze out music as I go;

I’m very sorry this is so —

Forgive my piping, pray!

 

“Poor man,” said Polychrome; “he can’t help it. What a great misfortune it is!”

“Yes,” replied the shaggy man; “we are only obliged to hear this music a short time, until we leave him and go away; but the poor fellow must listen to himself as long as he lives, and that is enough to drive him crazy. Don’t you think so?”

“Don’t know,” said Button-Bright.

Toto said, “Bow-wow!” and the others laughed. “Perhaps that’s why he lives all alone,” suggested Dorothy.

“Yes; if he had neighbors, they might do him an injury,” responded the shaggy man.

All this while the little fat musicker was breathing the notes:

 

Tiddle-tiddle-iddle, oom, pom-pom,

 

and they had to speak loud in order to hear themselves. The shaggy man said:

“Who are you, sir?”

The reply came in the shape of this sing-song:

 

I’m Allegro da Capo, a very famous man;

Just find another, high or low, to match me if you can.

Some people try, but can’t, to play

And have to practice every day;

But I’ve been musical always, since first my life began.

 

“Why, I b’lieve he’s proud of it,” exclaimed Dorothy; “and seems to me I’ve heard worse music than he makes.”

“Where?” asked Button-Bright.

“I’ve forgotten, just now. But Mr. Da Capo is certainly a strange person – isn’t he? – and p’r’aps he’s the only one of his kind in all the world.”

This praise seemed to please the little fat musicker, for he swelled out his chest, looked important and sang as follows:

 

I wear no band around me,

And yet I am a band!

I do not strain to make my strains

But, on the other hand,

My toot is always destitute

Of flats or other errors;

To see sharp and be natural are

For me but minor terrors.

 

“I don’t quite understand that,” said Polychrome, with a puzzled look; “but perhaps it’s because I’m accustomed only to the music of the spheres.”

“What’s that?” asked Button-Bright.

“Oh, Polly means the atmosphere and hemisphere, I s’pose,” explained Dorothy.

“Oh,” said Button-Bright.

“Bow-wow!” said Toto.

But the musicker was still breathing his constant and it seemed to jar on the shaggy man’s nerves. “Stop it, can’t you?” he cried angrily; “or breathe in a whisper; or put a clothes-pin on your nose. Do something, anyhow!”

 

Oom, pom-pom;

Oom pom-pom —

 

But the fat one, with a sad look, sang this answer:

 

Music hath charms, and it may

Soothe even the savage, they say;

So if savage you feel

Just list to my reel,

For sooth to say that’s the real way.

 

The shaggy man had to laugh at this, and when he laughed he stretched his donkey mouth wide open. Said Dorothy:

“I don’t know how good his poetry is, but it seems to fit the notes, so that’s all that can be ’xpected.”

“I like it,” said Button-Bright, who was staring hard at the musicker, his little legs spread wide apart. To the surprise of his companions, the boy asked this long question:

“If I swallowed a mouth-organ, what would I be?”

“An organette,” said the shaggy man. “But come, my dears; I think the best thing we can do is to continue on our journey before Button-Bright swallows anything. We must try to find that Land of Oz, you know.”

Hearing this speech the musicker sang, quickly:

 

If you go to the Land of Oz

Please take me along, because

On Ozma’s birthday I’m anxious to play

The loveliest song ever was.

 

“No thank you,” said Dorothy; “we prefer to travel alone. But if I see Ozma I’ll tell her you want to come to her birthday party.”

“Let’s be going,” urged the shaggy man, anxiously.

Polly was already dancing along the road, far in advance, and the others turned to follow her. Toto did not like the fat musicker and made a grab for his chubby leg. Dorothy quickly caught up the growling little dog and hurried after her companions, who were walking faster than usual in order to get out of hearing. They had to climb a hill, and until they got to the top they could not escape the musicker’s monotonous piping:

 

Oom, pom-pom; oom, pom-pom;

Tiddle-iddle-widdle, oom, pom-pom;

Oom, pom-pom – pah!

 

As they passed the brow of the hill, however, and descended on the other side, the sounds gradually died away, whereat they all felt much relieved.

“I’m glad I don’t have to live with the organ-man; aren’t you, Polly?” said Dorothy.

“Yes indeed,” answered the Rainbow’s Daughter.

“He’s nice,” declared Button-Bright, soberly.

“I hope your Princess Ozma won’t invite him to her birthday celebration,” remarked the shaggy man; “for the fellow’s music would drive her guests all crazy. You’ve given me an idea, Button-Bright; I believe the musicker must have swallowed an accordeon in his youth.”

“What’s ’cordeon?” asked the boy.

“It’s a kind of pleating,” explained Dorothy, putting down the dog.

“Bow-wow!” said Toto, and ran away at a mad gallop to chase a bumble-bee.

9

Facing the Scoodlers

The country wasn’t so pretty now. Before the travelers appeared a rocky plain covered with hills on which grew nothing green. They were nearing some low mountains, too, and the road, which before had been smooth and pleasant to walk upon, grew rough and uneven.

Button-Bright’s little feet stumbled more than once, and Polychrome ceased her dancing because the walking was now so difficult that she had no trouble to keep warm.

It had become afternoon, yet there wasn’t a thing for their luncheon except two apples which the shaggy man had taken from the breakfast table. He divided these into four pieces and gave a portion to each of his companions. Dorothy and Button-Bright were glad to get theirs; but Polly was satisfied with a small bite, and Toto did not like apples.

“Do you know,” asked the Rainbow’s Daughter, “if this is the right road to the Emerald City?”

“No, I don’t,” replied Dorothy, “but it’s the only road in this part of the country, so we may as well go to the end of it.”

“It looks now as if it might end pretty soon,” remarked the shaggy man; “and what shall we do if it does?”

“Don’t know,” said Button-Bright.

“If I had my Magic Belt,” replied Dorothy, thoughtfully, “it could do us a lot of good just now.”

“What is your Magic Belt?” asked Polychrome.

“It’s a thing I captured from the Nome King one day, and it can do ’most any wonderful thing. But I left it with Ozma, you know; ’cause magic won’t work in Kansas, but only in fairy countries.”

“Is this a fairy country?” asked Button-Bright.

“I should think you’d know,” said the little girl, gravely. “If it wasn’t a fairy country you couldn’t have a fox head and the shaggy man couldn’t have a donkey head, and the Rainbow’s Daughter would be invis’ble.”

“What’s that?” asked the boy.

“You don’t seem to know anything, Button-Bright. Invis’ble is a thing you can’t see.”

“Then Toto’s invis’ble,” declared the boy, and Dorothy found he was right. Toto had disappeared from view, but they could hear him barking furiously among the heaps of grey rock ahead of them.

They moved forward a little faster to see what the dog was barking at, and found perched upon a point of rock by the roadside a curious creature. It had the form of a man, middle-sized and rather slender and graceful; but as it sat silent and motionless upon the peak they could see that its face was black as ink, and it wore a black cloth costume made like a union suit and fitting tight to its skin. Its hands were black, too, and its toes curled down, like a bird’s. The creature was black all over except its hair, which was fine, and yellow, banged in front across the black forehead and cut close at the sides. The eyes, which were fixed steadily upon the barking dog, were small and sparkling and looked like the eyes of a weasel.

“What in the world do you s’pose that is?” asked Dorothy in a hushed voice, as the little group of travelers stood watching the strange creature.

“Don’t know,” said Button-Bright.

The thing gave a jump and turned half around, sitting in the same place but with the other side of its body facing them. Instead of being black, it was now pure white, with a face like that of a clown in a circus and hair of a brilliant purple. The creature could bend either way, and its white toes now curled the same way the black ones on the other side had done.

“It has a face both front and back,” whispered Dorothy, wonderingly; “only there’s no back at all, but two fronts.”

Having made the turn, the being sat motionless as before, while Toto barked louder at the white man than he had done at the black one.

“Once,” said the shaggy man, “I had a jumping jack like that, with two faces.”

“Was it alive?” asked Button-Bright.

“No,” replied the shaggy man; “it worked on strings and was made of wood.”

“Wonder if this works with strings,” said Dorothy; but Polychrome cried “Look!” for another creature just like the first had suddenly appeared sitting on another rock, its black side toward them. The two twisted their heads around and showed a black face on the white side of one and a white face on the black side of the other.

“How curious,” said Polychrome; “and how loose their heads seem to be! Are they friendly to us, do you think?”

“Can’t tell, Polly,” replied Dorothy. “Let’s ask ’em.”

The creatures flopped first one way and then the other, showing black or white by turns; and now another joined them, appearing on another rock. Our friends had come to a little hollow in the hills, and the place where they now stood was surrounded by jagged peaks of rock, except where the road ran through.

“Now there are four of them,” said the shaggy man.

“Five,” declared Polychrome.

“Six,” said Dorothy.

“Lots of ’em!” cried Button-Bright; and so there were – quite a row of the two-sided black and white creatures sitting on the rocks all around.

Toto stopped barking and ran between Dorothy’s feet, where he crouched down as if afraid. The creatures did not look pleasant or friendly, to be sure, and the shaggy man’s donkey face became solemn, indeed.

“Ask ’em who they are, and what they want,” whispered Dorothy; so the shaggy man called out in a loud voice:

“Who are you?”

“Scoodlers!” they yelled in chorus, their voices sharp and shrill.

“What do you want?” called the shaggy man.

“You!” they yelled, pointing their thin fingers at the group; and they all flopped around, so they were white, and then all flopped back again, so they were black.

“But what do you want us for?” asked the shaggy man, uneasily.

“Soup!” they all shouted, as if with one voice.

“Goodness me!” said Dorothy, trembling a little; “the Scoodlers must be reg’lar cannibals.”

“Don’t want to be soup,” protested Button-Bright, beginning to cry.

“Hush, dear,” said the little girl, trying to comfort him; “we don’t any of us want to be soup. But don’t worry; the shaggy man will take care of us.”

“Will he?” asked Polychrome, who did not like the Scoodlers at all, and kept close to Dorothy.

“I’ll try,” promised the shaggy man; but he looked worried.

Happening just then to feel the Love Magnet in his pocket, he said to the creatures, with more confidence:

“Don’t you love me?”

“Yes!” they shouted, all together.

“Then you mustn’t harm me, or my friends,” said the shaggy man, firmly.

“We love you in soup!” they yelled, and in a flash turned their white sides to the front.

“How dreadful!” said Dorothy. “This is a time, Shaggy Man, when you get loved too much.”

“Don’t want to be soup!” wailed Button-Bright again; and Toto began to whine dismally, as if he didn’t want to be soup, either.

“The only thing to do,” said the shaggy man to his friends, in a low tone, “is to get out of this pocket in the rocks as soon as we can, and leave the Scoodlers behind us. Follow me, my dears, and don’t pay any attention to what they do or say.”

With this, he began to march along the road to the opening in the rocks ahead, and the others kept close behind him. But the Scoodlers closed up in front, as if to bar their way, and so the shaggy man stooped down and picked up a loose stone, which he threw at the creatures to scare them from the path.

At this the Scoodlers raised a howl. Two of them picked their heads from their shoulders and hurled them at the shaggy man with such force that he fell over in a heap, greatly astonished. The two now ran forward with swift leaps, caught up their heads, and put them on again, after which they sprang back to their positions on the rocks.